


A Climbing Up of the Heart

by jesterlady



Category: Lost
Genre: Angst, Canon Het Relationship, Developing Relationship, F/M, One Shot, Romance, Stream of Consciousness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-07
Updated: 2013-07-07
Packaged: 2017-12-17 23:37:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,110
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/873219
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jesterlady/pseuds/jesterlady
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Juliet's thoughts of how her relationship with Sawyer came to be.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Climbing Up of the Heart

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I don't own Lost. The title is by Martin Luther

It began on the beach. At least, that’s when she noticed it. At first glance, it could be chalked up to the alcohol, but now she isn’t sure. The whole thing was plain ridiculous, the fact that she was sitting there, the fact that there was a there to sit on. So, maybe it made sense for him to come crawling, no, sauntering, out of the surf like he did it every day. They’d all spent their fair amount of time in that water, but he acted like his jeans were the common attire for such activities. At least he was barefoot. She didn’t know if she could bear his wearing shoes.

That was probably the alcohol, too. She could only imagine the dull, glassy look that must have covered her face and she always tried so hard to keep up the tough exterior. Well, she didn’t have to try as hard as she used to. It seemed like these days she was hard on the inside, too. But he looked at the plume of smoke and she felt softer when she saw the look on his face. Maybe it wasn’t freedom he was losing, but it was something precious.

She followed him through the jungle, wiping blood from her nose, wielding her gun expertly, and being the voice of reason. The feeling of warmth and softness inside her grew even as the danger intensified. She couldn’t blame it on the alcohol anymore. What could she blame it on? The island? Time travel? Him? He was probably the best option, but also the one that meant the most risk. Not that it meant anything. They were both dead, just trying to survive, how contradictory of them.

Maybe he didn’t think so. She’d escaped and she was sitting and she was wondering how badly she was going to mess up the space time continuum. Not a usual thought, but then, what was usual here? But she couldn’t be here, she couldn’t live when she was dead and maybe if she went where she wasn’t supposed to be it wouldn’t matter anymore. Her last chance had blown up, but this was at least one step up from the latter option. But then, he didn’t think so.

Two weeks can last a lifetime and she often wondered why she’d agreed to them at all. Could she fall prey to con man charm? She didn’t think so. Hadn’t she tasered him, threatened him, locked him up, bullied him, stood up to him, stopped him? And hadn’t he…no, wait, he hadn’t. He had his bad points, but starting with the island as a clean slate made the two weeks a decision that would last a lifetime no matter how time was really passing.

It continued with more alcohol. Nothing happened and she was surprised to find herself disappointed, but then, the actual sharing that had gone on was a far greater impetus to stay than any passing pleasure. They were all there, sharing, needing, coping, surviving, clawing at the world, hiding their pain, and relying too much on people that were just as raw as they were. Some more than others, some particular someones more than others. Another two weeks wouldn’t hurt.

Another two months wouldn’t hurt. It wasn’t like the world was going to change. Having knowledge of the future was a great help in deciding what you wanted to do with your life. Wait…her life. So, she was living again. She reminded herself to thank him for that. He’d laugh, show his dimples, maybe nudge her a little, and come up with a brand new name. She loved new names. 

She loved him. How she would ever come to say it or live it, she didn’t know. But then he said it and it turned out she was already living it. Another six months or three years wouldn’t hurt. No reminder of her past compared to the glorious fire of her present. He reigned supreme in her day and her night and she reveled in his victory over the past and he nurtured her dreams for the future. She’d never belonged, but now she did. First to him and he to her, then to their shared comrades and their secret, then to the group they’d stolen admission to. It was amazing, no matter the music that she couldn’t listen to yet or the ice cream flavors they didn’t have or the rain that would never stop surprising them. The island had become the paradise that she’d wanted it to be, not the hell she’d been condemned to. She told him that once and he seemed to understand. He said whoever could come out on top of what they’d been through deserved a paradise.

She agreed with him, she argued with him, she fought and bled and cried and loved and laughed and lived. With him. She’d never known what true partnership was and never been so pleased to see someone in any part of the day. Never cared less about grease and grime, never been more inspired to cook, never played card games till four in the morning, pet a polar bear, or never looked at a calendar. It was he who reminded her of anniversaries and special dates, always with flowers and Dharma wine and something just a little bit rough and she was glad because who he was would never be smoothed out all the way.

He once said he never regretted jumping. That no matter what he'd lost, he'd gained something far better. It almost made him believe in destiny even if he refused to. She knew she believed in it and it scared her just a little to think that it might catch up with them. It wasn’t something to think about today, but she hated the suspense just a little tiny bit and wondered when the other shoe would drop even as he assured her it wouldn’t. He didn’t want two weeks anymore, he wanted forever and he didn’t care if they ever came back. She didn’t either, even if there were others whose sorrow couldn’t be assuaged by their happy life. A happy life plagued with reminders like a child with glasses, buildings where things hadn’t happened yet, old lovers and friends, memories and secrets. It was a blessed life if a cautious one.

But now she realized it had begun on the beach as he stood there, dripping wet and exhausted. Her memory was slightly hazy, but his face and his words were crystal clear. Her own warmth inside was what she really remembered. It was the worst and best day of her life.


End file.
